


Gifts

by Dawnshadow



Series: Two Scions Walk Into a Bar.... [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: ....I think the ship is happening if I like it or not, Friendship, Gen, Mild Spoilers: Stormblood RDM Class Quest, Slice of Life in places, Spoilers: Early Stormblood, Talking About What Happened, kind of soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 07:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnshadow/pseuds/Dawnshadow
Summary: As the liberation of Ala Mihgo begins, Thancred holds to his promise and stays with Urianger at the Waking Sands to work through the events of the past year… which, given the subject matter, proves more difficult than he anticipated. Urianger, for his part, searches for a way to apologize for… everything.





	Gifts

_Dear X'rhun Tia,_

_Graciously I welcome word of thee, and thank thee for thy kind words of condolence. Alisaie is well and, were she now present, would doubtlessly send her regards; while I dare not write too much of the particulars of her current mission, know that she is in the good hands of our Champion. However, aught has of late come to mine attention that is of much concern to me. While her mastery of the arcane techniques of thy order is quite impressive, she yet struggles to find an appropriate weapon through which to channel her aether. While she manages with a blade comprised of pure magical energy, the maintenance of such is quite draining, particularly in the light of thine order’s absolute reliance on personal aether. I suspect a weapon of crystal forged may suffice for her needs, but I admit that the magical techniques of the Red are of yet a mystery to me, as would be the style of weapon demanded for that style of combat. Any insight into the particulars of thy art that thou mayst provide, relevant to the commission of such a weapon, would be welcome._

_I have, as thou hast requested, delved into mine resources, and enclosed copies of what information I could find on the current plight of thy student. However, if thou mayst wish another avenue of research, countless tomes containing nigh-forgotten lore lie within the Great Gubal Library, in the former Sharlyan colony. (Thou wilt also find enclosed a map detailing its location and layout.) Recently the seals upon it have been breached, and many of the guardians within defeated. While thou mayst encounter some resistance, I have no doubt that whatever challenge these remaining guardians pose is well within thy capability to overcome. _

_I wish thee the Crystal's blessing in thy quest to cure this mysterious malady. If there is aught more aid I might provide, it will be given freely and gladly. _

_Thine,  
Urianger Argurelt_

“…it occurs to me that I underestimated how taxing this was going to be.” Thancred sighed. “I’m sorry. I know we have… a lot to cover, but…” _But I’m too weak to even listen to you talk about your dealings with the Ascian without wanting a strong drink or three in me. _He rubbed his forehead. _I need to be stronger. I offered this freely, and you need my help if you’re going to face him like this again. _

“But thou needest time, so that mine words do not reopen old wounds.” Urianger hesitated, then reached out to give Thancred a tight hug. Thancred had been wrong; he _had_ changed. He seemed far more comfortable with touch now. He even took the hood off, sometimes, when he felt relaxed and secure. (Never when he was recounting his unexpected mission.) “I shall continue when thine fortitude hath returned, and no sooner.” He looked at Thancred. “Thou needest answer not, if it is not thy desire, but… how much dost thou remember? It mayst help in avoiding the provocation of such bitter recollections.”

“…at once too much and not enough… and, what’s worse, the memories are becoming more clear with time rather than less. It’s like the flash of lightning that illuminates the night for an instant. Impressions, nothing solid. The way the spells I cast _felt_, the sheer _wrongness_ of the aether. The shape of the words I spoke in their accursed tongue, the weight of the robes, the stifling mask. The—” He felt his voice catch on the lump in his throat. “The champion—” He shook his head. “He can’t come back. He _can’t come back._ He’s dead and I’m free of him.”

“Yes. Free, and with knowledge beyond that allotted to most mortals, knowledge with a cost bitter beyond imagining … but knowledge that might yet be an advantage in thwarting their plans, nonetheless. Thine every breath and every beat of thy heart is in itself a small vengeance." Thancred closed his eyes. Urianger… had the right of it. As he usually did. "By their own schemes they hath forged thee into a blade that will ever be turned against them, a mortal they will never be able to manipulate, for they will _never_ have a fraction of an ilm of thine trust. Let that, if nothing else, be thy comfort and balm.”

"Thank you. That helps, thinking about it that way." He breathed, focused on the stone under his feet, the feel of the pen in his hands. He _lived._ "I think I'm fine now. Just… don't go into so many particulars about how the concert casting worked, that's what did it this time. Aetheric theory was never my strong suit, and I'm sure your own _complete_ report on this incident will suffice for others who need a primer on how Ascian magic functions."

Urianger nodded and settled back in his own chair, adjusting his hood before he continued. “As I was saying… we were several weeks in this process, between practicing weaving our magics and discussing the theory behind the process. We did have other conversations in this time, of course, but none of them are anything I recall being particularly notable. Quite a bit of philosophical debate. Offerings of books and tomes as a ‘reward’ for my abject and overt pliancy in the face of his demands—he noticed at some point mine enjoyment of fantastic tales, and went out of his way to make offerings of the most exotic texts he could lay hand on; I still have them, in fact, if thou dost wish to read them.” Thancred was torn between _no_ and _what hidden messages lay within these books?_ “He did go into some detail as to the foundations of his faith at my insistence—in fact, the fact that I had inquired was quite pleasing to him; I surmise he took it as evidence that I was starting to bend, rather than merely curious— but I doubt it to be thine wish to have such recounted at this juncture.”

“Worth recording for further academic reference, but yes, skip the sermon.” Thancred leaned forward. “You said he brought you books? Literature, at that? He really does know the way into your heart.”

“Nothing of the like passed between us, I assure thee.” Urianger had suddenly found his own pen to be a fascinating device.

“I know a seduction when I see one, Urianger.” And if this had come from anything other than an Ascian, Thancred might have found himself amused over it rather than _highly concerned_. “One of the mind and soul, but seduction all the same. Everything you lust after, he offered freely—it just happens that flesh isn’t one of those things.” For a moment he wondered if Ascians lusted for flesh at all and _immediately_ regretted it. “I think it’s clear he wanted something more from you than your help summoning some heroes from a seemingly doomed star.”

Urianger’s pen was still the most fascinating thing in the world, and he was fully focused on its workings. “The motives of Ascians are difficult to ascertain.”

That wasn’t even a _good_ deflection. Thancred set down his pen and reached out, resting his fingers against the side of Urianger’s hood, subtlety guiding him to look back up. “Just between us. Tell me, Urianger. _What did he want_?”

Urianger hesitated. Then spoke in barely a whisper. “Me. He wanted me, to gift or curse me with the blessing of his shattered god.” He shook his head. “The process must require consent, I surmise. Twice he hath offered, and twice I have rejected him to no further consequence than an expression of disappointment.”

“…by the Twelve.” Urianger really would make a _nightmarishly_ effective Ascian. Gods, this was going to make for a lot of sleepless nights. “That’s possible?”

“I presume so, if it were so offered. By what means, I’m uncertain and, at this juncture, unwilling to pursue further.”

“Probably for the best, then.” He took another breath. “…I think I’m done for the evening.”

“In all truth, we find ourselves in agreement—this is done for now.” Urianger was back to avoiding his eyes. “Mine own resolve falters upon further reflection of his deeper motives, of the truth beneath silken words laid bare. Unlike thou, I am not bitterly inoculated against their subtle and seemingly kind actions, and in the moment I found myself blinded by my isolation.”

“You were lonely, and he the only one you felt you could confide in, so tangled you were in his schemes.” How close had they come to losing him without even knowing there was a danger to begin with? Thancred feared it was far closer than Urianger would ever admit. “And he took full advantage of it. Not that this means you shouldn’t keep… ‘working’ with him in the future, if it brings us advantage, if he still thinks he has his claws in you. But you need to be aware that, as gentle as he was with you… it was an act. Trying to put a collar on you and leash you with _fate_.”

“I am now full aware, and it is not something I shall again fall for.” He looked pensive, and no little bit guilty.

“I know.” Thancred sighed. “I know. I’m just… worried. Retroactively worried, mind you.”

“I doubt that I will be out of thy sight for the next week, regardless of how safe I may be under thy stalwart care.” He lifted his goggles enough to rub at his eyes, then pulled them back into place. “I know no way to apologize for all this. For the deception. For coming to the very edge of faltering.”

“Use that foothold to pry more information from them… once you’re ready, of course, and if an opening presents itself. I’ll consider that a more than ample apology.” Thancred smiled—maybe things would be all right. “And for now… maybe we can share a bottle of wine while you read more of that poetry you’re so fond of to me?”

“I would gladly attend to thee so.” Urianger stood, slowly, and stretched, fingers brushing against the ceiling. “I will fetch wine, then, and meet thee in mine quarters?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

_Dear Urianger,_

_Your information was most useful! I intend to make for the library as soon as it is feasible. I can only hope we might find further clues there. You must forgive me, therefore, for being short; there is much that needs be done._

_Such a weapon sounds as if it would suit Alisaie perfectly. I’d suggest asking Thancred about potential crystalsmiths given your proximity to Ul’dah and its many traders, but I would suggest a twisted configuration to amplify aether as it leaves the focus and travels through the blade. I’ve enclosed further notes for the smith and observations on Alisaie’s aetheric signature; doubtlessly you could expand on these notes. _

_I wish you well, and will send an update once we’ve checked out the books we need. I can only hope they do not demand a library card._

_\--X’rhun Tia_

"It's going to be quite a commission. The crystals alone…" Thancred didn't know much about crystalsmithing, but he knew the cost of a good weapon and what Urianger proposed was more than a _good_ weapon.

"But it is desperately needed. The cost is no burden unto me—the difficulty is in finding the connections needed for the requisitioning of such. This thou mayst offer, I pray, in abundance. I believe I can handle the enchantments, once the weapon itself is forged."

Thancred grinned. "This is one hell of a way of saying 'I'm sorry.'"

"I owe her much and more for the pain and worry I caused her, however inadvertently." Urianger shook his head. “I knew not what scene she espied nor that she sought the Warriors of Darkness, else I might have spoken to her, privately, ere it came to crisis.”

“You know, it’s honestly just blind luck that I didn’t come across you in similar circumstances. I’d like to think I would have recognized it for what it was.” He privately wasn’t sure he would have, with the Ascian there in person. “I think I know a few people who should be able to handle making this weapon. I’ll send some messages out, try to set up some meetings so you can negotiate with them. Up for a few days in Ul’dah? It’ll be just like old times, for me— I wonder if that restaurant that served those kabobs is still there.”

_It was._ And it was even more delicious than Thancred remembered. Brought him back to simpler times. Urianger, meanwhile, was completely missing the point of a kabob, pulling one bite off the skewer at a time, although he did seem to be enjoying it.

“I regret not commissioning this weapon sooner. I can only pray it will be done ere she requires it.” Urianger ate a chunk of bell pepper. “The spices… the skill that goeth into such a seemingly simple meal, balancing flavors. I trust thou knowest the chef?”

“Of course.”

“Then send mine complements.” He pulled a piece of meat from the kabob next. "I regret that I do not spend more time here, in this city. It is not so very distant from the Waking Sands, and thou hast revealed no few of its wonders in even this short time here."

"But a fraction of them, at that…" Thancred smiled. Ul'dah was _home_… even with a few bitter memories laid over top and most of the fond ones buried under the events of the past few years. "I'd be more than happy to reveal those wonders to you while we're waiting on the next few meetings. I'll need to take you to a few booksellers, first of all."

Urianger looked utterly enchanted already.

They had to hire a chocobo to get all the books home. It would be some time before the rapier was finished, but that was only to be expected, given the rarity of the materials involved. And so life continued—sorting through their agents' reports on crystal movement and suspected summonings. Sparring to keep ready for combat, and for Thancred to get used to fighting spellcasters without the advantage of his own magic—Thancred was pleased to note that Urianger had improved _greatly_ in his time away; apparently, he'd missed the man dueling the Flame General himself! And, of course, continuing to listen to Urianger's report. It got easier, with time… for both of them.

And then there were moments like this. The quiet ones. Urianger was curled up with one of the books he'd claimed in Ul'dah, comfortable enough to take his hood down. Some fantastic tale of a time when fairy and man walked side by side… not exactly to Thancred's taste, but the look of pure contentment on the elezen's face was enough. Thancred settled down next to him-- felt Urianger lean back against him-- and started to tune the disused lute.

"How many seasons have we seen pass since last I heard thy sweet songs?" Urianger asked, twisting to look up at him.

"It’s been a long time. I’ve barely touched it since the Calamity. I didn't have the heart to, at first, and then… we were just so busy. And then…" He adjusted one of the frets, then strummed a few notes. "I thought I might pick it back up again." He started to pick out a few notes, pleased by how easily it came back to him.  
  
Urianger smiled. "I enjoy music, and would much enjoy thine efforts, if thou wouldst be so kind as to avail me of them, even be them rusty from disuse."

And so Thancred did. And despite the missteps, the wrong notes, the flaws in the tuning… Urianger seemed all the more content for it.

_Dear X’rhun Tia,_

_The rapier crafted for Alisaie is beautiful—made of crystal the pink of a rose, the lower part of the blade twisted, attuned to her aetheric signature and the focus. I was able to successfully deliver it unto her ere her departure, and pray it serves her well. She doubtlessly looks forward to the day when thou mayst set eyes upon it, and in like see how marvelously she hath progressed in the art imparted to her. _

Urianger paused in his writing, smiling faintly. There was still much they needed to discuss—and never would he fully atone for the pain he’d so carelessly caused— but he’d seen forgiveness in Alisaie’s eyes.

_Do not lose hope. Though a storm of steel hast passed over the Resistance of thy homeland, leaving pain and death in its wake, know that promise lieth on the horizon, rising like the sun itself. The fight will continue until we see Ala Migho free once more, this I promise thee. _

_May the Twelve watch over thee and thy apprentice in these trying times._

Urianger signed the letter and, once the ink had dried, folded it and placed it in the envelope, sealing it with a spot of wax. Full glad was he for Thancred’s company; he knew how much he missed Minfilia, how this place reminded him of her. But, at the same time, there was healing to be found here; how long had it been since Thancred had _really_ rested the way he did even now? Likely not since before the Calamity’s threat had become evident, if one didn’t count the moons spent mired in a broken, peaceless haze of self-recrimination.

Full glad was he for it. The quiet evenings spent in each other’s company. His presence to discuss their agents’ reports, knowing he’d be there should action become necessary. The gentle gifts he imparted without even seeming to notice what gifts they were he offered—the way he sat in arm’s reach, the offer present but unspoken, and these days accepted more often than not. And for knowing that Thancred _was_ healing— that both of them were healing—that, more than anything, he was glad for.

He knew this peace would not, could not linger, and like a flower in bloom ‘twas made all the more precious for its fleeting nature.

**Author's Note:**

> I have hit Shadowbringers and am absolutely floored by what I'm playing through.
> 
> I now have a zillion things to write about before the WoL even shows up; Urianger was best decision.


End file.
